Hymn LXXXVIII. Common Metre. The Spreading of the Gospel

Great God, the nations of the earth, Are by creation thine; And in thy works by all beheld, Thy power and glory shine.

But thy compassion Lord, has sent Thy gospel to mankind; Unveiling what rich stores of grace, Are treasur'd in thy mind.

Lord, when shall these glad tidings spread, The spacious earth around, Till every tribe and every soul Shall hear the joyful sound?

O when shall Afric's sable sons Enjoy the heavenly word; And long in slavery held, become The freemen of the Lord?

When shall the savage wandering tribes, A dark bewilder'd race, Sit down at our Immanuel's feet, And learn his saving grace?

Haste, sovereign mercy, and transform Their cruelty to love; Soften the tyger to a lamb, The vulture to a dove.

Smile, Lord, on each sincere attempt. To spread the Gospel's rays; And build in every heathen land, A temple to thy praise.